


The beginning was bright

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Ineffable Fluffies [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Questions, feelings abound y'all, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Sequel to "The beginning was quiet"





	The beginning was bright

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most hideous thing I've written in a while, I do apologize for that.

Raphael was created roughly three days after God decided She was lonely and wanted company.

Michael had been created the day before. She sat to one side and waited as God laid down Her rules to Her newest child, and then when God finished, Michael asked, “Creator, what is _his_ role?”

“He will help us create,” God replied firmly. “Let us begin, little ones.”

Shakily, Raphael stood. Michael scrambled to her feet, eager to begin. God had put the Knowledge of creation into their minds, their hands; soon the two angels were making stars and planets and little bits of debris to litter the Nothing. Raphael was dismayed when he tried to create an extra-big star, in honor of his Creator, and it simply… collapsed in his hands, into a tiny point of infinite gravity. He looked up, anxious for reassurance.

“It’s alright, Raphael. We’ll find a place for it. Help me scatter these stars.”

Raphael and Michael gathered creations carefully, and took flight. Michael flung her creations giddily, speeding through the Nothing in great loops, creating bright clouds; Raphael took his time, and placed each star and planet carefully, making pleasing patterns.

“Is that right, Creator?” he asked, as he finished with his gathered objects.

“That is perfect, little one,” God’s warm voice told him, and he smiled, almost as giddy as Michael.

God created a solar system, perfect in every way, while Her children hung the stars. It was great fun, and Raphael found that, even though he was newly born, he had strength in his body, and his shakiness was gone. He and Michael swooped past each other, laughing as they hurled stars at each other in play. God’s contentment was a warm presence that made Raphael content too. He decided he liked making people happy.

~

As time passed, and God created more angels, Raphael and Michael were eased off creation duty. Michael, as eldest, was given the duty of ordering the others around; Raphael, as second, was given the duty of making sure everyone was happy. He did not question this, though it seemed to him a little unfair. Shouldn’t they share duties?

But God had said no questions, and so he would not ask.

He and Michael greeted every angel, at the start; then there were too many angels to simply leave on their own, so Raphael and Michael agreed that Raphael would greet the newborns and Michael would supervise the others. Uriel, the third angel to be created, became Michael’s deputy, once the angels began the task of making what God had called a “garden”.

The angel Lucifer was a surprise. Raphael was busy helping make trees, and so he was late going to meet the newborn angel. He stopped, and blinked, when he got a good look at Lucifer. Pure light, with many, many wings, and obviously different from the other angels. Lucifer was taller than Raphael, and brighter, and when God told Raphael proudly that Lucifer was all-new, a completely different and improved angel, Raphael simply smiled and said hello and offered to show Lucifer the way to the garden.

“No,” God said, before Lucifer could answer. “He will stay with me. I have plans.”

Raphael felt a stinging emotion in his chest, but ignored it. “As you will, Creator. I’ll see you around, Lucifer.” He gave another friendly smile, and left.

He pondered that new emotion for a while as he helped with making little things he’d decided to call “blackberries”. It had tasted bitter and annoyed. He wasn’t supposed to be bitter, though. He was Raphael, an archangel, almost perfect.

Almost perfect… if he were truly perfect, he wouldn’t feel bitter at all. So therefore, if he was feeling it, it must be alright to feel it, because God didn’t make mistakes.

God didn’t make mistakes.

Raphael bit his lip and focused on his planting.

~

The more angels were created, the less there was for them all to do. So Michael retired them all to the meadow, asked Uriel to keep an eye on everyone, and whisked off to spend time arguing with Metatron. Raphael knew she felt the same bitterness Raphael did. She was first-born, but Metatron, as God’s Voice, held special power over even her.

Not that Raphael dwelled on his bitterness for long. He always made himself think of other things. Lucifer had decided he liked Raphael, as did some of the other angels, and they would all spend long stretches of time musing together; softly, softly, so that they were not heard and punished. Lucifer often came up with questions that Raphael had never considered, that made him very uncomfortable; but he decided that discomfort was good. It made him care more, and think, and thinking was important, was it not?

He still greeted every angel, and found joy in their wide, innocent eyes gazing at the Creator with awe and love. He took them to the meadow, and introduced them, until Michael found out and told him to stop it. As eldest, with the responsibility of order, she had the right to tell Raphael such things.

But Raphael still greeted the new ones.

And then, God called Her three eldest, Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, and told them, “I am going to make one last angel. Then I will be done. There are plenty of you now, and you all need jobs. Michael, I request your help thinking up those jobs. Uriel, you remain second-in-command. Raphael...” She paused, which was so unlike Her that Her children blinked, confused. “You know, Raphael, you have a very special office. I shall give you a symbol.”

A whirl of glowing white appeared in front of Raphael, then darkened and solidified into a staff. He took it in his hands, surprised, and tried to ignore the stares of his siblings. Another whirl of glow rose, and twisted, and wrapped around the staff, to become a creature, much like other creatures God had been experimenting with, except it had no legs. It gazed at Raphael with slit-pupiled, yellow-gold eyes, and flicked a forked tongue at him.

“It is a serpent,” God said. “A snake. A symbol of healing. It is the symbol of your office.”

“Oh. Thank you, Creator.” Raphael bowed low for a moment, then, when he straightened, asked, “Does this mean my job has changed?”

“Yes. You are the angel of health and healing. Michael, you are law, order, and fire. Uriel, you are wisdom, art, and judgment. Yes, Michael?” God asked, when Michael frowned.

“Creator, should I not judge too, since I am law and order?” Michael asked.

Raphael and Uriel stared at her, horrified. Questions—forbidden at the beginning. Raphael braced himself for whatever punishment God chose.

God sighed. “No, Michael. Law and order will be the definers of judgment. Those who break from your direction are for Uriel to judge. Who else to judge but the wise one?” Uriel bowed their head, embarrassed. Michael continued to frown, but she nodded, accepting her place.

Raphael wondered at God’s about-face. All this time, everyone had been terrified of questions; but now God accepted them, and gave answers. Perhaps the rules were changing. Perhaps soon he, Lucifer, and the other angels could ask for clarification, too.

It took a long time for God to create her last angel. Raphael used this time to ponder, and speak to his friends, and cautiously bring up the subject of questions with his siblings. Michael rejected his idea immediately and harshly; Uriel shook their head frantically. So Raphael did not distress either of them again with his idea.

Lucifer was excited by Raphael’s news, and went to God to test the waters; but he came back angry, and cornered Raphael to growl, “You _lied_. She still will not receive questions.”

“She received Michael’s, though,” Raphael answered, frowning worriedly. “Maybe we need to approach Her at a certain time...”

The pressure of Lucifer’s light sizzled on Raphael’s robe. His snake hissed in warning, but Lucifer paid no attention.

“You’re lucky you’re an archangel,” Lucifer said in a soft, deadly voice. “We will be having words later.”

And Raphael, second born, an archangel, was afraid.

~

The last angel was a short, plump little fellow who was pale in every way. Pale skin, pale eyes, pale blond to the point of white hair. He looked around, not with awe, but with inquisitiveness.

“Hello, little one,” Raphael greeted him. “Welcome to Heaven.”

Those curious blue eyes looked at Raphael, and he realized there was a thrumming in his being. Curiosity… so many of the others lacked it. And even those who had it were not as curious as this one.

As Raphael helped create a new galaxy, he wondered. And finally, he managed to voice a small, possibly dangerous question: “Is Aziraphale different too?”

“Yes,” God answered readily. Raphael blinked. “I tried a different way of Creating him. I like this way. I shall be tweaking it to create the beasts. Did you feel something?”

“He is curious,” Raphael replied cautiously. “More curious than most others.”

“Not as curious as you.”

Raphael could not stop a flinch. Thankfully, God said no more, and Raphael was silent as well.

~

Raphael’s duties kept him busy, making sure the angels were happy, healing various plants, and making secret plants for Aziraphale.

The younger angel never noticed Raphael watching, as he picked through the undergrowth and tasted everything edible. His joy and curiosity were infectious, and Raphael found himself smiling every time Aziraphale found a new flavor he liked. Aziraphale was not going to be content as a Watcher, when God finished Her final project; maybe he would be brought in as a creator. That would be interesting.

Raphael found time to speak with Aziraphale, and every time he did, he wondered at the warm feeling radiating off Aziraphale. God had given Raphael the ability to sense strong emotions; but he wasn’t sure what they meant. When God tested Her night, and Raphael put his arm around Aziraphale to comfort the younger angel, the warmth grew, enveloping and… excited? Aziraphale did not stop shivering. Raphael finally recognized what the emotion was, for it was similar to his own emotions for his Creator—love.

That made him blush deeply as they made their way back to the meadow, but Raphael forced himself to think of other things. Love should be given only to the Creator, the Almighty, the only being who deserved it. Raphael did not deserve love. But Michael seemed to have forgotten her duties, and Raphael frowned before lighting his staff.

He was too busy to think of Aziraphale for a while, but finally he had time to visit the stream, and there was Aziraphale, looking discontent.

Did the younger angel know, when he offered his feather? Did he understand the great power in his gesture? Raphael accepted the feather and tucked it in his hair, where it would be safe. He would have to hide it better before he went with Lucifer to question God. No need to rouse suspicions, or make God angry.

Feathers were more than just dead material; they held Essence, Power, and Connection. With this feather, Raphael would always find Aziraphale. As long as he held this feather, they were connected in a more powerful way than just being angels. He wondered if he should tell Aziraphale…

But he felt Lucifer’s approach, and stood, quickly hiding the feather under his hair. Aziraphale stood too, and when he looked where Raphael did, he paled even further and bowed his head diffidently.

“It’s time,” Lucifer said, his light throwing long, terrifying shadows.

“Alright,” Raphael replied, and patted Aziraphale’s shoulder, before following Lucifer to the path. Other angels waited there, clustered together in fear and excitement. Raphael walked just behind Lucifer, who strutted along as if he were God too. The archangel was a little worried, but he was still baffled by Aziraphale’s gift and tired from peace-keeping. And that is why he did not ask what Lucifer was planning.

~~~\0/~~~

Hidden in a corner, Crawly stroked the feather that was his only token of Before. He had no memories of Before, and the memory of Falling was too painful to think about. But when he held his feather, he felt a measure of peace.

Satan was moving, his anger flowing like lava through the tunnels and caves of Hell. Crawly shoved the feather into his unraveling braids, hidden from everyone, and stood. He was very frightened of Satan. He wasn’t sure why; he had the notion that he was, in a way, more powerful. But Satan was angrier, and his hate deepened every day. The other demons were filled with hate, too; but Crawly was too tired for that.

Satan stuck his head in the cave where Crawly lived. “Crawly,” he said, and grinned, a dangerous grin that promised that someone was going to hurt. “I have a job for you.”

“Yes, sir?” Crawly said cautiously, standing at complete attention. No sense _looking_ for trouble.

“God has created a little place called Eden. I want you to go there, and tempt the humans.”

Satan laid out his careful plan, gleeful with the pain it would cause. Crawly listened, and absorbed the plan. He had his own thoughts about the idea of an unprotected tree, and the withholding of knowledge, but he voiced none of them. Questions were bad. He knew that. He knew it in the recesses of his soul. Questions were bad.

So he crept up the secret tunnels, and slid easily into the shape of a snake, and emerged, blinking, into sunlight.

The sun warmed his coils in a way that was much more pleasant than the wet heat of Hell. He paused, basking for a moment, before slithering off in search of a human.

The first one he saw had thick, tightly-curled hair, and a sweet face with a slightly bored expression. Taking care not to let her see him, Crawly lifted his head and hissed in her ear.

“Why sit here, bored, with nothing to do? Why not taste of the fruit?” Then he deviated from the script Satan had written for him. “What’s so bad about knowing the difference, anyway? If you know the difference between good and evil, then you won’t be tempted to be evil. You’ll know how to say no. Without knowledge, you will fall into traps and be completely unaware; isn’t it better to be sure of what is right?”

“God said not to, though,” Eve murmured, frowning worriedly. “Surely it is good to obey.”

“God is not everywhere. You are a free being. Do you not move your body on your own, think thoughts that are your own? Do you not have questions? You are your own person, and blind obedience is not what you were created for. Eat the apple, and know what you are for. Know your purpose when you know what is good and what is bad.”

She hesitated for so long that Crawly considered going to Adam. But finally her face cleared, and she said, “You’re right. I am my own being.”

Standing, she strode through the lush garden, Crawly slithering behind her. He watched from under a bush as she picked an apple, and considered it.

“Eve? What are you doing?” Adam asked, hurrying through the brush. Crawly stayed very still.

“We are our own beings,” Eve told Adam firmly. “If we know what is good and what is bad, then we will know how to avoid evil.”

Adam frowned. “God will tell us what is bad,” he said stubbornly.

Eve narrowed her eyes at him. “God cannot control us. Do you not move on your own and think your own thoughts?” Crawly wriggled in glee. “Come on. If we know, we will be prepared. We will be better able to obey, for we will know what not to do. _Knowledge_ , Adam. _Knowledge_.”

And she bit into the apple.

Adam hesitated, but as Eve chewed and swallowed, he nodded and accepted the apple from her. Crawly watched the change come over them; the childlike innocence began to fade, and they straightened, blinking at each other. Adam was the first to look away. “We should cover ourselves,” he said, looking worried. “We will need protection when we leave.”

“Yes, but there is nothing sturdy.” Eve bit her lip. “We could perhaps cover ourselves with leaves, until we find something more able to protect us.”

“Yes. Perhaps… if we take a strong stick, we can fight whatever evils await.”

“Maybe.” Eve sighed, and turned to a fig tree. “We shall have to hope.”

Crawly laughed triumphantly inwardly. The knowledge was not simple good and evil; it was everything between, as well. They knew now that there was danger outside the walls, and that if they were not careful, it would kill them. They were already thinking of death, and of staving it off. Mortality does not occur to innocents. And with the knowledge of death, they became aware that it was wrong of God not to tell them that they were mortal, and were supposed to live their lives thoughtless and innocent in a garden that would never release them. They recognized that they had felt boredom, and unhappiness; and now they were going to go and search out happiness themselves, armed with hope.

They were taking their fate into their own hands.

And then God spoke, a raging grumble; “WHY HAVE YOU EATEN FROM THE TREE?”

Adam bowed his head, ashamed; but Eve raised her eyes to that fierce voice, determination in every line of her body. “We know now, God,” she said, her voice clear and unafraid. “We know what You planned. And we are choosing our fate.” She tied a vine over the leaves that covered her, took Adam’s hand, and led him to the wall. Crawly stayed very still, until the anger of God ceased, and he smelled water in the air. Then he slithered after them, curious. He got to the wall just as they stepped through, and climbed it to raise himself beside the angel who was the guardian of this end of the wall.

He shaped himself bipedal again, and said, “Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Sorry?” the angel said politely, and nervously.

Crawly looked at him. “I said, that went down like a lead balloon,” he repeated. He kept his frown to himself, but… there was something familiar about the angel. He was pale. Pale skin, pale eyes, pale hair so blond it was white.

The feather hidden in Crawly’s hair seemed to warm, giving off a strange heat that was neither suffocating like Hell, nor burning like Eden; it was pleasant and gentle. Perhaps it was simply that the angel was present.

But the moment the angel spoke his name—“Aziraphale”--Crawly felt a shiver in his insides.

Aziraphale. He knew that name. From Before.

Slowly, the inky darkness where his memories should’ve been began to lessen.

~~~\0/~~~

Crowley came home whistling. The concert had been marvelous, and the night spent at the most luxurious hotel in town had been just as good. The bed had been much nicer than his own, and there hadn’t been any Bibles in the drawers.

The only thing that had soured the night was that Aziraphale wasn’t with him.

But that was fine. He trotted up the steps and down the hall cheerfully, ready to be greeted with crumbs in his kitchen and smutches on his furniture, because as fastidious as Aziraphale was, he simply could not stop book-dust from clinging to him. Hopefully the plants had been good.

He stepped through his front door and trotted towards the kitchen, where he could feel his angel’s presence. “Angel! I’m home!” he called, and rounded the corner to step into the kitchen.

Aziraphale was sitting at the table, bone-white, but with a stubborn expression. And on the table lay the feather.

**Author's Note:**

> comments = life, love, and happiness


End file.
